


When We Collide

by Sticecreamsaac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Lacrosse, M/M, Roscoe - Freeform, Stiles Batman Stilinski, Stiles is drunk in the first chapter only, Stiles x Isaac - Freeform, confused isaac, stisaac - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sticecreamsaac/pseuds/Sticecreamsaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac hadn't bargained for a confession from Stiles.</p><p>Much less a drunk Stiles.</p><p>But one had no place to say things when ones in someone else's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Half Gay

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I suck at summaries, and this is the first time I've ever used AO3 so bare with me

Isaac had no idea how he got himself into this situation.

He was just taking a walk through the woods when Stiles' scent hit him hard. Isaac followed the scent, he blamed it on boredom.

Turns out, Stiles was inside a club. A gay club.

Isaac trudges into the gay club without thinking. He finds Stiles, leaning against the bar table, giggling helplessly.

Another guy was with him. Dark-haired, and tall. However, he looked like a genuinely nice person, not those guys you stereotypically think would be there.

Not a guy that you'd find in a club ever, in fact.

"Hey look!" Stiles slurs as Isaac comes to his view. "It's my buddy, Isaac!"

The dark-haired boy and Isaac nods in acknowledgment of each others company.

"What are you doing here, Isaac?" Stiles leans away from the table.

"I could ask you the same question," Isaac replies.

"It's a club!" He exclaims, flailing his arms around. "I'm clubbing!"

Isaac raises his eyebrows.

"Alright, alright," Stiles laughs. "I came here with Danny ... something about ... company."

A second later Stiles stumbles forward, almost hitting the floor. But not before Isaac catches him.

"You should probably get him home." The dark-haired boy finally says. "That is, if you're actually his friend."

"Uh," Isaac hesitates. "Sort of."

"What?"

"I don't know if he would exactly consider me a 'friend'." Isaac says truthfully, after making sure Stiles can stand.

"Bullshit." Stiles snaps at him. "You're my friend."

Isaac blinks.

"Nice meeting you," Isaac clears his throat after a minute, facing the other boy.

"You too," He replies out of politeness.

Stiles half-stumbled out of the club, an arm draped around Isaac's shoulder, rambling about something Isaac has no clue on. He's so drunk that he won't remember a thing tomorrow.

"We could walk," Isaac suggests. "Your house isn't far."

"I brought my jeep." Stiles replies.

"And you're drunk."

"But you're not."

"I haven't ... I don't drive." Isaac hasn't driven in so long, that the memories seem too fuzzy to even make out the colour of the steering wheel he had last held.

"You're open to new things aren't you?" Stiles drags Isaac towards his jeep. "And I know you know how this thing works. I've driven your werewolf ass too many places for you not to know."

Isaac's mind went blank. "You have?"

"I think so," Stiles shrugs.

Stiles jumps into the passengers seat as Isaac makes his way to the drivers. 

He gulps, his hand on the ignition key.

"You're so tense," Stiles shakes his head, putting his hand over Isaac's and helps him turn the key. "There. Now drive. As you said, my house isn't that far."

Ten minutes later the ride and Stiles' meaningless babbling ends. 

Isaac jumps out of Stiles' jeep. As he stands on Stiles' front porch, he wonders why he thought he couldn't have done it. Why he hasn't attempted to do so in months.

"Are you coming?" Asks Stiles's voice from the inside of the house.

"I- shouldn't I go back to Dereks loft?" Isaac scratches the back of his ear.

"It's too far," Stiles waves his hand around. "And anyways, you should probably keep me company, dad won't be back till later."

Isaac walks into the Stilinski house, not remembering when he'd been here last.

He follows Stiles upstairs. "Do you have a guest room or something?"

"You could sleep next to me," Stiles yawns, falling atop the bed. "I'm kidding," He laughs at Isaac's expression. "I could sleep on the floor with my favourite blankets and you could sleep on my bed."

"Its your house," Isaac said, furrowing his eyebrows together. Hadn't he asked about a guest room? Surely the house was too big to only contain two rooms. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Stiles shrugs. "If you insist." He points to a closet. "Anyways, the blankets are in there, and I think there two pillows, as well."

Isaac gets the blankets and pillow, laying it down on the floor. 

"Maybe you should've slept with me," Stiles says. 

"What," Isaac says like the smart guy he is.

"My dad won't come home in a long time." He says looking up at the ceiling. "That way, who would catch us, right? That's what you're afraid of, aren't you?"

"Stiles, you're drunk." He shakes his head.

"Just because I'm drunk," Stiles says. "Doesn't mean I can't think straight."

Before Isaac has a chance to reply, Stiles erupts into a fit of laughter. Isaac frowns. "What's so funny?"

"I've made the best joke of the century," Stiles looks at him like he's an idiot.

"You have?" He asks, sitting on the floor with the blankets laid out.

"I'm like half gay," Stiles yawns.

Was Isaac supposed to reply to this? He didn't know, so he kept his mouth shut, as Stiles continued.

"I've wondered if I was gay. There was Derek Hale. Nice face, that guy. Your Alpha, too. Doesn't that sort of make you his child or something?" Isaac was quiet, he didn't know how to take in Stiles' confession. "Well, that doesn't matter. I sort of got over Derek. I mean, he's still pretty cool, and all, really cool, actually.

But I got to hand it you. You're the one who really opened my eyes and I thought, 'Oh shit, boys are attractive'. And then, as an afterthought, it hit me. I thought YOU were attractive. Specifically. But girls were still attractive to me.  Maybe I have specific guys I like. What do you think? Do I have a type or something? Because you, Derek, and Lydia aren't exactly alike."

Isaac's head had been placed upon the pillow a while ago. He stares at the ceiling, wondering if that was the alcohol talking. Stiles' heartbeat was smooth. Not too frantic, not too slow.

"You know what?" Stiles asks after a while.

A few seconds of silence indicates that Stiles was expecting an answer from him, so he clears his throat. "What?"

"I think you should kiss me."

"Stiles, you're drunk. " Isaac repeats.

"I am, aren't I?" He laughs.

"Yes. You are." Isaac nods, even though the other boy can't see him, since Stiles lays on the bed.

"I kind of forgot you're straight." Stiles sighs. "Wait a second. Are you? Actually, don't answer that. Not if you don't want to."

Needless to say, Isaac keeps quiet.

A few minutes pass.

"I still think," Stiles yawns once again before falling asleep. "that you should kiss me."

And so, Isaac himself doesn't sleep for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did it suck?
> 
> More or less, right? 
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think about it.
> 
> And I may make chapters, but I'll see ;)


	2. Tumbling Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was surprised to find Isaac sleeping on the floor of his room, but that wasn't the only thing he noticed.
> 
> Even with a throbbing pain in his head, Stiles knew something was wrong.
> 
> Isaac wasn't acting the same.
> 
> And it was bothering him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God.   
> So I changed the title "I Can Hear Your Heartbeat" because it sounded creepy af

Someone had driven a tractor into Stiles' head. He was sure of it. 

He got off the bed, groaning, and almost stepped on Isaac's hand. Stiles didn't notice the werewolf right away, he could barely keep his eyes open due to the throbbing pain.

"How many drinks did I even have?" He asks aloud, finally noticing Isaac because the boy opened his eyes and sat upright. 

Stiles' eyes widen. "What the hell are you doing in my house? And in my room?"

Isaac rubs his eyes. "What time is it?"

"I think I asked a question first?"

Isaac's eyes trail over to the clock in Stiles' room. "What is the last thing you remember, exactly?"

Stiles glared at him. Why does Isaac have to interrogate him? Wasn't this his house? His room? Does Isaac even have the place to ask questions. And especially while Stiles was going through this immense pain.

"I went to the club with Danny ... grabbed a few drinks. And ..." Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together. "And I don't remember the rest ..."

Was that confusion or relief in Isaac's eyes? Oh God. Did Stiles ... He wouldn't ...

"Your heartbeat's going faster." Isaac notes, looking back at Stiles. "If you're wondering, I don't think you did anything with anyone there, I found you next to a guy that looked decent enough, and you were about to grab another drink. But other than that, I don't think anything happened."

Stiles wasn't fully reassured by that. His main concern hadn't been about other people.

He was about to ask Isaac a question but his stomach turned and he rushed to the washroom.

\--

"You haven't answered my question." Stiles states, getting out of the washroom, wiping his face, while his head throbs lightly.

"Hmm?" Isaac gets up from the floor. "Which?"

"What are you doing in my house?"

"You told me to stay," Isaac shrugs, gathering up the blankets and stuffing it into the closet.

"I did?" Stiles walks over to his table.

"Yes, you did." A blanket rolls away from the closet and Isaac chases it.

"Oh," Stiles manages to grab a shirt from on top of his chair. "Did I ... did I say anything else?"

"Maybe," Isaac gives Stiles a look, then folds the blanket and puts it on the closet, making sure it'll stay there. However, another blanket falls off, and Isaac makes a sound of frustration.

"Just leave it," Stiles says, walking over to him. He picks up the blanket and folds it, facing Isaac. "What else did I say?"

"Things." Isaac puts his hand next to Stiles' head, and against the blankets, as the blankets were about to tumble off again.

They were very close. As soon as Stiles was aware of exactly how close, his heart rate picked up. He knew Isaac could hear it, and cursed his werewolf powers.

Isaac's lips moved.

"What?" Stiles asks stupidly. 

"I said, give me the blanket." Isaac looks at the blanket that Stiles was clutching. "I'll put it on top of the pile and close the closet."

"Yeah," Stiles hands Isaac the blanket. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

"If you don't mind," Isaac takes the blanket. "I think you've got to move out of the way."

Stiles moves away, his face flushed. He felt odd. Isaac wasn't being his usual cocky self. He hadn't made any remarks about Stiles' heart rate. Something was up.

After Isaac closes the closet, and sits down, Stiles steels his nerves and fixes Isaac with a look. "What's up with you?"

Isaac frowns. "What's up with me?"

"Yes. What is up with you?" He asks. "Where is your usual aura of persistent negativity? Why aren't you being an asshole to me? What happened to your everlasting hate for me?"

"I've never had an everlasting hate for you." Isaac replies.

"Oh sure."

"And do you prefer the side that's an asshole to you?"

Truth be told, Stiles was most comfortable to that side. He'd gotten used to it.

"I could be an asshole now." Isaac says.

"But you're not."

"Because I prefer not to."

"And why not?"

"Because it's 10 in the morning at your head hurts- I mean my head. My head hurts."

Stiles' head pain was beginning to dull. Had he already taken some Asprin? "Are werewolves immune to headaches apart from the full moon night?"

"Uh ... I don't think so?"

"Okay."

The silence carried on for a while. And Stiles was not comfortable with it.

"What did I say?" Stiles asks.

Isaac's eyes snap towards him. "What?"

"Last night. I know I said something. And I know that's the reason why you're acting so ... weird-"

"I'm not acting weird." Isaac interrupts.

"- but I don't know exactly what I might've said, so I want to know." Stiles continued.

Stiles' phone beeped, and he ignored it.

"You should get that." Isaac says, looking at the phone beside his table.

"Maybe it's not important."

"Maybe it is."

"It's probably not." Stiles' phone beeped again.

"I think we both agree that this is most likely something important." Isaac says after it beeps for the fourth time.

"Fine," Stiles grabs his phone. "But we're not done with this conversation."

Stiles checked his phone, and it seemed like they were done with the conversation for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I'm being honest, I did not know how to end this.
> 
> And I'm so sorry, I'm totally horrible at hangovers 
> 
> Also, if you've got any suggestions, for the title -if you don't think this one sound fit- and for the story, feel free to advice me :)


	3. Healing Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac knew he shouldn't have let Stiles come along.
> 
> But when had the human ever listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for 3 days

After Stiles had gotten the text from Scott saying that he was in big trouble and NOT to go after him, but send Derek, Isaac was off, running outside, before being grabbed by the human boy.

"You're not going to him alone." He said.

"Scott told you to stay here." Isaac argued.

"Have I been known to listen to orders?"

Isaac thought about this. If Stiles got hurt, it'd be his fault. But before Isaac could tell him anything, he walked over to his jeep with an expression that displayed determination.

"We're stopping by Derek's first." Isaac buckled the seatbelt of the passenger seat, Stiles started driving without bothering about his seatbelt. "And you're staying out of whatever's going on."

"You're not the boss of me, Isaac." Stiles was frowning.

"Stiles, I'm serious." He had enough to worry about, he didn't need to think about how Stiles would get hurt.

Stiles didn't reply, pulling up when they arrived at Derek's loft.

"Stay here." Isaac said, getting out of the jeep, earning an eye-roll from Stiles.

Then, it was Stiles, Derek, and Isaac going to help Scott.

Ignoring the protests of Isaac, Scott AND Derek, Stiles had grabbed a bat and went off to help, too.

Sure, it looked like the fight was coming to an end, but they were all injured. Badly. And worst of all, Stiles was still bleeding profoundly.

"I'm okay, Scott." Isaac heard Stiles reassure Scott, when Scott went over to check on Stiles.

"No, you're not." Scott's eyebrows were drawn together, taking some of Stiles' pain as he winced. "Okay, that's it, you're getting out of here. And you're leaving now."

Isaac lifted Stiles up, but the humans eyes were closed. "I'll get him out of here."

"Thanks." Scott looked grateful, but tensed. "And don't worry, I think this is almost over," Scott glanced at the few omega's that were lying unconscious against the grass.

"If worst comes to worst, you know we can't help them, right?" Isaac asked as Stiles' head rested against his shoulder. It seemed he was unconscious, but his heart rate was fine, so the werewolves didn't panic too much.

"I know," Scott sighed, sadly. "But we can try. Now, get Stiles away."

"They're going to wake up soon," Derek warned from the other side. "We need to get them to the loft if you really think they're still worth saving."

Isaac left the scene, walking to Stiles' jeep. Thankfully, the loft wasn't too far.

\--

And now the two boys were back to Stiles' room, both awake. One atop the bed, and the other atop the chair, holding the others hand.

"Do remind me why you decided to charge into a battle, knowing you could get yourself killed in the hands of a few blood thirsty beasts." Isaac fixed Stiles with a look, leeching his pain away.

"Because you guys needed help." Stiles stated simply, closing his eyes.

"We didn't, and we don't."

"Mhmm ... and what is happening now, exactly?"

"Well ... the omega's got into the loft, and it turned out that the omega's hadn't touched the the light of the full moon last time, kind of like that time with Boyd and Cora," Isaac looked away from Stiles and to the floor, still holding Stiles' hand, and taking his pain when he could. "So it was kind of hard to convince them to stop ... especially since they're omega's. But they plan on leaving Beacon Hills and try to gain control over their shifts."

It seemed to dawn on Stiles now, that the pain that was leaving his body was entering Isaac's. He took his hand away. "Okay. That's enough."

Isaac sighed, leaning back. "You're still in a lot of pain."

"So are you." Isaac didn't reply, indicating that he was right. 

"I'm not going to ignore that," Stiles sits up, wincing slightly. "But your sides still bleeding. Weren't you supposed to heal or something?"

"Well ... Scott accidentally scratched me ..." Stiles goes to interrupt him, but Isaac continues. "But it was my fault. I got in the way."

No one speaks for a minute or so, then Stiles gets up.

"Where are you going?" Isaac asks, springing up to his feet.

"There's this thing called a first aid kit. I'm getting that." Stiles rolls his eyes, walking to the washroom.

Isaac touches his side when Stiles is out if sight. He lifts his shirt a bit, to examine the wound.

The werewolf hears the human returning, so he quickly tugs his shirt back down.

"So I washed myself up a bit," Stiles' hair, indeed did look like it had been washed, and his shirt, too. "And I suggest you do too."

Stiles sits back down on the bed, opening the first aid kit he had brought with him.

Isaac watches Stiles patch up his own forearm, still not taking a seat.

After Stiles is done, he throws the bloody tissues away and faces Isaac with cotton in his hand.

"Your turn."

"My what?"

"Your TURN. Was I speaking Spanish?"

He frowns. "I don't need to get patched up. I'm a werewolf."

"Well, see, about that." Stiles puts a hand on his own knee, trying to look professional. "You're a werewolf, yes. But you got scratched by an Alpha, which will slow your healing process, so, what I can do right now is make sure your wound doesn't develop an infection."

"I'm not getting any infections."

"I don't think you're the one who gets to decide that."

"Well I think I am."

"Just sit down, Isaac," Stiles says, sounding exhausted.

Isaac hesitantly sits down. "Are you sure you can?"

"I'm one human amongst a bunch of werewolves, I'm pretty sure I needed to learn a thing or two about safety."

Isaac gave in.

Stiles seemed to process after a minute that Isaac had no idea what to do.

"Right, okay," Stiles clears his throat. "I'm going to have to ... ask you to take off your shirt."

He heard Stiles' heart rate rise a bit. And Stiles' heartbeat was pounding by the time Isaac took off his shirt.

But he made no comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are good, guys 
> 
> Haha I'm kidding, you guys do you


	4. Patching Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stitches Isaac's side, ignoring the conversation from before, but he was reluctant to go back to that topic.
> 
> They get into a mini argument, but it doesn't last long since Stiles is right.
> 
> And Isaac's still being too soft on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitimately just found the "RichText"option *facepalm*

Stiles glared at Isaac the whole time while stitching his side up. His heart beat had calmed down, which was definitely a good thing, but there was still a slight blush around his cheeks.

"You don't have to do the rest, you know," Isaac questions, probably tired of holding his arm up slightly.

"Almost done," Stiles grumbles.

Even though Isaac had shrugged off the scratch like it was no big deal, after he'd taken off his shirt, it was clear that the wound definitely needed to be cleaned out and patched up. Werewolf or not.

"I can deal with the rest you know." Isaac sighed in impatience.

It hadn't even taken a beat  before Stiles replied with a swift; "Doesn't mean you should."

Isaac kept quiet. He was too quiet. His usual snarkiness disappeared, and Stiles was still waiting to tackle the topic once again.

"There. Done." Stiles leaned back, surveying his work. It looked more or less okay.

Isaac looked at it too. "Thanks." He said.

He shrugged.

Isaac looked outside.

"What? Can't wait till you leave?" Stiles says, sarcastically, if Isaac wasn't going to start bothering him, he might as well try to get him to snap.

"No," Isaac replies, softly. "just wondering how Derek and Scott's doing."

Stiles stretched his hands out in front of him, finally getting Isaac's attention back to him. However, there was still genuine concern in Isaac's eyes.

"Is it still hurting?" Isaac gestures to his arm.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Not really?"

Isaac's eyes don't leave his arm. "Should I take a look?"

"It's fine." Stiles snaps.

"Well, fine." Isaac grumbles.

It takes all of Stiles' willpower not to calm his voice. "Would you stop it?"

"What?" There was surprise in his eyes, as if he didn't know what Stiles was talking about.

"Stop doing ..." Stiles gestures between himself and Isaac. "Stop looking so concerned!"

"Why?" Now Isaac was frowning.

"Since when was Isaac Lahey ever so worried about my health?" There was a hint of venom in his voice, but he couldn't help it. Years of bitter words between them and all of a sudden he'd gone soft on him? He knew it wasn't because of Scott, because Scott had tried for months to get them along with each others company, he had, of course, failed.

"Don't have an answer?" Stiles laughs, after Isaac doesn't reply. He was losing his mind.

"Scott told me to take care of you." Isaac says, looking away from him once again. "It's not like this is becoming a thing, you know? It's not like I'll be there to save your life all the time. As if I'd want to."

Of course. Of course that was it. Scott _forced_ Isaac into this, since he was busy keeping Derek from scaring the omega's away. He's so stupid. How could he have thought Isaac would care? Not that he wanted Isaac to, anyway.

He glared at the bedsheets next to him. Was he happy that he'd gotten Isaac to snap back?

"Sorry." Isaac gets up, walking to the window.

"For what?" He cursed himself for wishing that Isaac wouldn't leave.

"For being such an annoyance." Ah yes. Stiles had managed to make him snap.

He grit his teeth together.

"I didn't say you were an annoyance." Stiles tried.

"Say isn't really the appropriate word for it. Imply is."

Why should Stiles care, anyway? This is how it was supposed to be between them. They were supposed to bicker about everything, and isn't that what Stiles was trying to do? To mess with Isaac? Then why in the world was he suddenly feeling bad.

"You want to get back to that conversation, then?" Stiles gets up, walking to Isaac.

"What conversation?" Isaac was glaring out the window.

"The one we were having before I had to go get my ass kicked by a couple of werewolves."

"I don't know what you mean." Firstly, he wouldn't even look at Stiles, and now, he was pretending not to know what Stiles was talking about. Again. Screw him.

"Yeah? Okay, well, I'll just refresh your memory, then." Stiles says. If Isaac could be stubborn, so could he. "Last night I went and got drunk, I woke up and suddenly I was back to my room with you lying down on my blankets, something I said made you lose your 'persona'-" He made air quotes. "-and all of a sudden, you're nicer to me now. Not that you're nice, but that you're not being an ass- "

Isaac interrupts him before he could continue rambling. "I didn't say that you telling me something made me lose my 'persona'-" cue mock air quotes. "-as you say."

"Say isn't the appropriate word for it. Imply is." Stiles throws his words back to him.

"You're the ass, here." Isaac rolls his eyes.

Stiles felt a bit better. Isaac was back to insulting Stiles and not himself.

Stiles grinned for a second. "Are you trying to change the topic?"

"All I said was that you're an ass." Isaac folds his arms, which did things to his muscles. "I didn't change the topic. You said I wasn't being an ass, so I said you were."

"Okay, Mister smart _ass_ \- " there was definitely a hint of a smile from Isaac. " -I get the picture. Back to the topic, please."

"You didn't say anything." Isaac responds.

"Then wha-" Stiles' eyes widened. Oh please, God, let him be wrong. "Did we ... did you KISS me?"

"What?!" Isaac sputters. "No!"

It wouldn't be that bad kissing Stiles, would it?

"We didn't kiss." Stiles couldn't read Isaac's expression. "Why would we?"

"I don't know." Stiles frowns. "You're acting so weird. I'm just saying whatever comes to my mind."

"You always do, don't you?" Isaac rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I do. And maybe you'd get used to it if you hung around for a while, right?"

"Hung around?" Isaac looks at him, finally. "Since when did Stiles Stilinski want Isaac Lahey around him?"

"Well maybe if 'Isaac Lahey' would stop being such a pessimistic person, 'Stiles Stilinski' wouldn't hate his company as much."

"So that's how you feel? You hate my company because I'm such a pessimist?"

"Is-"

"Well guess what? Some of us actually don't go around living perfect little lives with perfect little people who save their asses every damned time, some of us actually have to think about their deaths every single second of the day- "

"You think I don't think about dying?" Stiles' voice was low. "At least you idiots can heal most of the time. Me? I don't. I have to live with most of this. That scratch mark you have on your face? It's disappearing. The wound on your side?- " Stiles gestures roughly to Isaac's side, making him flinch slightly. " -It's GOING to disappear. The scratch mark _I_  have on my face? Not leaving. Not for a while. Thing long line across my arm? It's going to leave a scar. So if you think that I don't wonder about what would happen if Scott arrives a second too late, you're wrong."

Isaac looked behind Stiles, not as if there was a threat, but as if he'd become tired of looking at Stiles. He kept quiet.

When had this conversation taken a turn to Depression Ville? Weren't they just talking about kissing Stiles? God. Maybe kissing Stiles would be that bad.

"Your arms bleeding, again." Isaac looks at his arm after about a minute or two. "Don't touch it, idiot." He says, softly, moving Stiles' other arm away.

"What are you going to do if I touch it? Rip my arm off?" Stiles glared.

"That would be tempting." Isaac walked around Stiles, moving towards his bed.

Isaac stares at the first aid kit uncertainly.

"Whatever you're planning on doing, don't." Stiles remarks.

"You don't even know what I'm going to do."

"Whatever it is, it's a bad idea."

"Actually, I think I'm pretty good with injuries."

Oh.

"And it's not like your skills are essential." Isaac continues.

"Hey, I happen to be very talented with these things." Stiles would have crosses his arms across his chest if not for the blood. "I was just very stressed."

"I have that effect on people."

Stiles rolls his eyes, walking to Isaac.

"Sit."

"What."

"I said sit. Am _I_  speaking Spanish?"

"Oh shut up." Nevertheless, Stiles sits down.

Isaac opens up the kit, getting the cotton out first.

"My turn to patch you up." He says. "Try not to faint again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do suck at chapter summaries, sorry haha


	5. Drunken Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac had a habit of beating himself up.
> 
> He tried not to.
> 
> But old habits die hard.
> 
> And hopefully,
> 
> Just hopefully, Stiles would help him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey, sorry it took a few days

It was just a drunken mistake, Isaac convinced himself. He was totally sure.

After all, Stiles hated him. He knew it. There was no way he could _like_ Isaac. No one could.

"Could you hurry up a bit?" Stiles whines.

"Don't like being the one patched up, do you?" Isaac raised an eyebrow.

Stiles was rolling his eyes at him again. "Shut up."

"Funny that you're the one telling me that."

"I'm going to punch you." Stiles warns.

"You wouldn't."

"How would you know that?"

"Because you wouldn't want your already broken arm to crack more."

Stiles looked look like he was really going to punch Isaac, which made him break into a small smile.

After a minute, Stiles stretched. "Alright, we're done." He yawns.

"Actually, we are."

"Good."

Isaac sits back, looking at the stitches he's formed, and so does Stiles.

"Looks kind of crappy." Stiles comments.

"Well I haven't sewed anything recently, I'm a werewolf." Isaac narrows his eyes at him.

"And hopefully you'll stay one," Stiles says. "Because your stitching skills aren't exactly ... efficient."

"They're lasting longer than you." And of course Stiles took this the wrong way. Isaac hadn't even realized what he said before Stiles' eyes widened. "I ... I mean my stitches are lasting longer than your stitches." He stuttered.

"Yeah, okay." Stiles laid down against the bed again. "Now, go take a shower or something, you stink."

"I don't sweat." Isaac replied.

"Your blood is starting to smell." Stiles rephrases.

"Like what?" Isaac rolls his eyes.

"Like death." Stiles remarks, looking pleased with himself.

Isaac gets up from the chair. "I don't even have clothes to change in."

"Wear one of mine, or something."

"You're like three feet tall."

That gets Stiles started, so he stood up, a finger pointed at Isaac. "Mind you. I am five foot ten."

Isaac raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to be intimidating? Because I've got a foot on you."

"I am not that short. And," Stiles jabs the finger into his chest with every word he utters. "Just. Because. You're. Super. Tall. Doesn't. Mean. We. Have. To. Be."

"Well you do." Isaac nods, looking down at him. "If you want to be intimidating."

"One day," Stiles says, his finger still against Isaac's chest. "I am going to slap that smirk right off your face."

Isaac leans down, only to prove that he still is tall, no matter what Stiles threatens him with. "Seems like today isn't that day."

Stiles glares at him as he moves away from Stiles. "I'll just repeat my shirt."

He feels something land against his back.

"That is disgusting." Stiles scrunched up his face as Isaac picks the shirt up from the floor. "Wear that one. It's It's a bit big for me, anyway."

"You could grow into it." Isaac walks into the washroom, hand on the doorknob. "Oh wait. Maybe not."

Isaac grins, closing the door before Stiles could say anything.

-

The shower was fast. Faster than what Isaac would've normally gone for. But he had too much on his mind.

 _Stiles doesn't like me,_ he tells himself, looking at his reflection. _No one can. He said so. And ... and he's right._

There's water running along his sides, he'd just remembered that he'd forgotten to take a towel. Whose would he take? Stiles'? Oh look, a towel.

Isaac hadn't let his father's words get to him in a while. But there it was again. Just in the corner, when Stiles wouldn't be glaring at him. When Stiles looked at peace. Looked at peace without glancing at Isaac.

 _Even if he was gay ... or bisexual or whatever, he wouldn't fall for you,_ he chides himself. _He doesn't like you. If he did, he would've told you. ... Right?_

There's a knock on the door.

"Did you die in there?" Stiles' voice retorts.

Isaac runs a hand through his wet hair.

"Are you really dead? Because I don't know how I would explain this to Derek. I can't even open the door, aren't you naked or something? Hey, you didn't take a towel! Well, there's a small one hanging of the rod thing, you can grab that and ... Isaac?"

"Still alive." Isaac replies, hitching up his pants, and holding the shirt up.

"Okay." Even though he makes no sound, Isaac knows Stiles is sitting against the door.

"Would you prefer me dying?" Isaac wears the shirt. Well, tries to.

"That would, of course, depend on if you're planning on picking on me again."

Isaac knocks slightly against the door before opening it, letting Stiles know that he should probably get up.

"Weren't you the one who wanted me to pick on you?" Isaac raises an eyebrow, hanging the towel around his neck.

"Not my height."

"Well in that case, I think it's safe to inform you that you're not that short." Isaac nods.

Stiles splays his fingers in front of himself. "So how long are you staying over?"

Drunken mistake.

"If you want me to leave so badly, I could go right now."

"Its not that."

"The shirts still small." Isaac says, picking on the shirt.

"I'm aware."

"Kind of like you."

Stiles' glare comes back.

"Okay. Sorry. No more height mocking." Isaac takes the towel off his neck, hanging it on top of the chair.

"I'm going to watch a movie. I'm bored." Stiles declares several minutes later, taking his laptop. "If you wanna watch it, you're free to."

-

  
It's the afternoon when Stiles is bored again, but he has nothing to watch.

"I've watched Star Wars so many times I basically have all the words memorised. And did you know? Scott hasn't even watched it yet! He promised that if he survived through the Alpha pack thing that he would, but here we are again. Back at phase one, where I have to pester him into another deal-"

Stiles has been going on and on for hours. Isaac wonders how he still has enough oxygen to breathe.

Isaac nods absently.

"You know what. I don't hate your company as much." Isaac hears when he zones back in.

"Don't you." Isaac stated.

"Not that I _like_ you ... or your company." Stiles huffs. "Just don't hate it anymore."

Isaac hums lowly.

"I mean, who else would listen to me drone on and on for minutes."

"Hours." Isaac corrects.

"Exactly my point."

"But I don't like you." Stiles deadpans.

"Don't like you, either." Isaac informs automatically.

Stiles nods.

"Is there anything you're going to do?"

"Why? Are you going to leave if I don't?"

"Goddamit, Stiles," Isaac gets up. "If you want me to leave, just _tell_ me."

"I didn't say that," Stiles protests. "I'm just wondering when I can ask you."

"Ask me what?"

Stiles looks away from Isaac, not replying. "Stiles?"

Of course Isaac knew what he was talking about. But Isaac didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to keep it between himself and drunk Stiles. Isaac was used to keeping things to himself and not talking. Talking is something he's new to.

"Look, I know you don't want to tell me," Stiles sighs. "But I'd like to know. I don't like it that you're acting all weird, and I don't know anything about _why_ except that it's my fault."

"And you're worried about me? Since when?"

"We're friends, Isaac," Stiles frowns after that. "Well, frenemies, but still friends, right?"

Isaac didn't conceal his surprise. This was the second time he'd said something like that, and this time he wasn't insanely drunk.

Stiles is picking on the loose threads of his shirt. How many does the kid have?

"I'll stop acting weird, then." Isaac says, uncertainly.

"So you'd rather stop acting weird than tell me?" Stiles rubs his hand over his face. "God. This must be worse than I thought."

"I'll tell you," Stiles' face lights up. "But later."

Stiles slumps back against the headboard.

"You wanna play a game?" Stiles questions.

"What game?" Isaac asks back, as Stiles gets the controllers.

"We'll see." Stiles replies, shortly.

-

Several minutes later, Stiles is yelling at him, saying that he's been cheating.

"Or," Isaac drags out the word. "I'm just really good."

"No way," Stiles shakes his head. "Nuh-uh. No one is _that_ good. I know you're cheating, Lahey, give it up."

"Give up what? My amazing skills?" Isaac snorts. "No can do, Stilinski, it comes with the Isaac Lahey package."

"I have amazing skills in my package too," Stiles says, furiously jabbing at the buttons of the controller. "I'm a gift."

 

"Yeah well," Isaac leans in, closer to Stiles, but doesn't take his eyes off the screen. " _The bite is a gift._ "

And for the first time that day, Stiles laughed, genuinely, and brightly.

Maybe if Stiles was a girl, Isaac would've made a move. Because ... because he's straight, right?

Stiles, Isaac decided, was probably the only one who had the power to make Isaac question his sexuality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the dedicating thing, I will be dedicating chapters starting from the next one, and of course, I'll be dedicating it to the people who comment, because what else, right? Haha  
> But seriously, thank you so much for reading this :) ♡


	6. Half Confessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Isaac seem to be getting along better.
> 
> Isaac tells him something Stiles knows he wouldn't usually admit.
> 
> And then he has to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to @baidati  
> You were the first person who kudoed my story, and I will forever be greatfull. Thank you so much ♡

At 10 o'clock Isaac declares that he should probably leave.

"You could stay over for the night," Stiles offers.

Isaac wasn't meeting his eyes when said, "I shouldn't."

"And why should you not?" Stiles raises an eyebrow, settling down his controller.

He didn't need to be a werewolf to see Isaac's anxiety start to settle in.

"I shouldn't ... I mean ... I shouldn't go anywhere these nights, really." Isaac's own controller was dangling off on of his fists.

"Are you going to be elaborating?" Stiles questions.

"Maybe later?" Isaac directs it as a question to Stiles, making him sigh.

"Alright, I won't make you say anything, then." He knew better than to go poking around a beta's sides. "Now, how about another round of Mario Kart where _this time_ you let me beat you."

-

Stiles had successfully won his second round when they were back to the topic of why Isaac can't stay over.

Isaac took a deep breath and didn't speak for a minute. Stiles was about to break the silence when he'd finally said, "I sometimes ... still have ..."

Isaac was stumbling around with his words. That shouldn't happen. It wasn't a good sign. It was either Isaac talking confidentally, or not at all. Luckily, Stiles didn't need Isaac to finish his sentence in order to know what was up.

"Derek's loft is the only place I feel like I can spend the night, nowadays." Isaac sighs.

"You feel _safe_ at sourwolfs loft over anyone else's _house_?" Stiles asked, bewildered.

Isaac shrugged.

"Is it okay to ask why?" Stiles knew he should tone down a bit. This was probably the longest time the two had ever spent together. And Isaac had practically just admitted that he still gets nightmares. To _Stiles_ above everyone. Well, Derek probably knows, but Isaac was basically opening up to Stiles, right? That's step one.

"Well, he's pack," Isaac said it so easily, like it explained everything. Like it solved every problem that exists on the face of the universe. "And he doesn't exactly ... make a big deal about it, but when it gets bad, he's ... well, he's there."

Stiles motions his hand as if asking for a time-out. "Wait, wait. Are we talking about the same person here? Because I'm referring to Derek Sourwolf Hale."

Isaac smiles weakly. "Yeah. He's pretty nice, actually."

"I'd say I'm aware," He crosses his legs. "So you still go over to his loft?"

"Occasionally." Isaac shrugs. "And anyways, he apologised for kicking me out. Said it was for my own good, or something."

"How in the world could kicking you out of somewhere you _sleep_ be considered 'for your own good'?"

"The Alpha pack. They were trying to convince Derek to murder his own pack." Stiles hadn't actually expected Isaac to answer him.

"Oh."

Stiles wants an actual smile from Isaac. A big one, one with happiness showing prominently, not the small, broken ones he offers Stiles occasionally. And he doesn't even know why.

Gingerly, he takes the controller from Isaac's hand.

"So you're going to leave?" He asks.

"I guess." Isaac gets up.

"Okay. Well, do want a ride there?" Stiles proceeds to get up, only for Isaac to shake his head.

"No, it's fine, I'll walk."

"Not with you intestines trying to break out you're not." Stiles grabs his jacket, already heading downstairs.

"As if yours aren't." Isaac followed him closely, as if to make sure the boy doesn't fall and injure himself.

"Mmm, but see, I'm not the one who got slashed by an Alpha." Stiles shakes his head, walking to his jeep. "And anyway, I'm fine. I'm healing. I've been hurt before. You know what's different this time?"

Isaac shakes his head as he sits on the passenger seat.

"This time I was babysat by a werewolf who also happened to patch me up." Stiles started the engine, after jumping into the car.

"Very badly," Isaac added.

Stiles nods. "Very _very_ badly."

\--

Three hours later, Stiles was back on top of his bed, unable to sleep. Usually he'd walk downstairs and back. This time, however, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts, only to realise that he doesn't have the number of the person he's looking for. Then, it dawns to him that the person probably doesn't even /own/ a phone.

So, yes, he does go downstairs, and raids the fridge.

 _So Isaac has never played Mario Kart before today, yet he beat your ass_ , Stiles thinks to himself, getting a bag of doritos out of the cabinet. _That's not fair. Even Scott isn't that good. You need to step up your game._

He sits on top of the sofa. _But then again_ , he drawls, _I haven't played in a while._

"Haven't played what in a while?" A voice comes from the door.

"Oh, hey, dad," Stiles waves a hand, looking back at the television that Stiles hadn't even realized was on. "Did I say that out loud?"

"You said, everything out loud, son." His dad closes the door.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stiles asked, doritos still in his mouth. "How much did I say?"

"Isaac came over?" The sheriff asks, sitting down next to his son.

"Oh. Yeah. He did." Stiles shrugs, pulling the packet of chips away from his dad's hands.

"I thought you didn't like him?" Okay so maybe Stiles had ranted to his father about how much he loathed Isaac after that 'and again with the not helping' incident. But really, the ranting thing was totally an incident too. His bubbles were bursting, and he needed to ramble. He couldn't have told Scott because Scott wanted them to _get along,_ oh screw him, and so when his father had walked into the kitchen, Stiles was going on and on, and his dad even told him he'd regretted walking in.

"Oh God, no." Stiles scrunches his eyebrows together, throwing a dorito at the screen because the guys being stupid. "I still don't _like_ him. He's not that bad, though."

Stiles glances back at his father after minutes of silence.

"What?" He asks, since the sheriffs giving him a knowing look.

"Nothing."

"No, seriously, _what_?" Stiles isn't even paying attention to the television anymore.

"I'm just wondering if you're going to ramble on about how Isaac _isn't_ so bad."

"Huh. Didn't realize you wanted one," Stiles looks back at the screen, stuffing his face with doritos occasionally, but talking to his father, nevertheless. "Well, see, I've always viewed Isaac as this ... This jerk who keeps bothering me, but I kinda just realised that we both pick on each other, but it's kind of okay, though, it's like harmless banter, except sometimes we really _do_ hurt each other, and give ourselves shit because of that, because _crap_ we're both such jerks."

There's a pause where Stiles puts a handful of chips in his mouth again, still staring at the screen instead of at his father.

"And then he got stuck babysitting me today. Well, yesterday, actually, it's past 12 now, anyways, he's been babysitting me since _b_ _efore_ yesterday actually, because he found me off my head drunk -not a word- last-to-last night, and the _jerk_  he stayed with me through the night because I told him to? Like wow, how dare he be nice to me. And the nerve of him. He stayed with me like 3 hours ago because Scott told him to, but he was being so _nice_  and-"

Stiles finally looks at his dad. "What?"

"Stiles I was kidding." Sheriff Stilinski gets up, patting his sons shoulder. "Now go to sleep."

Stiles was sitting on the sofa, dumbfounded as his father switched the television off.

His father ascends the staircase, talking to himself. "Actually gave me a verbal essay on how much he likes this boy."

Stiles shouts a swift, "I don't like him!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I know how this may seem sort of unrealistic that Stiles still hasn't remembered what he said, but hang on, yeah?  
> I need a trigger word/phrase, and we're getting there ;)
> 
> But thank you all so much for reading this and actually being so patient.


	7. Internal Monologues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Stiles had a habit of ranting his thoughts out loud, Isaac usually did the opposite.
> 
> But even then,, Isaac doesn't even let his mind wander off to far.
> 
> With an exception of this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to @PreppyBrett who commented first thank you so much for that boost and advice ♡

 

Isaac was screwed. He was _so_ screwed.

He liked hanging out with Stiles. Isaac Lahey _liked_ hanging out with _Stiles Stilinski._ (And he definitely wanted to do it again.)

And he ... oh no, did he? He did ... He told Stiles about his nightmare!? What was wrong with him? -

"Rough day?" Derek asks after walking into the new kitchen, and seeing Isaac pace around.

"As rough as it ever gets,"Isaac sighed. "You were there. With the omega's and all."

"I think we both know I'm not talking about that." Derek gets a box of orange juice -which _Isaac_ had gotten- out of the fridge. "Did Stiles do anything bad? Threaten to skin you?"

"Not like you would do anything if he did," He snorts.

"Did I say I would?" Derek retorts, pouring some of the juice into a glass.

"No," Isaac frowns.

Derek gives a slight nod that only he can pull off, then walks out of the kitchen.

Isaac does too, several minutes later, he sits on the sofa and stares at the floor.

 _Well technically he said I was attractive,_ He continues thinking to himself. _But anyone can find anyone attractive. It doesn't mean anything. And he just said that he thinks I should kiss him. Maybe he was just looking for someone to kiss. After all, he was drunk. And years and years of rejection-_

"Stop that," Derek interrupts his thoughts.

"Stop what?" Isaac looks up.

"Doing _that_ ," Derek's nose wrinkles.

Isaac gives him a questioning look. "I'm not doing anything?"

"You're thinking a lot. You're reeking anxiety."

"Sorry," He hung his head back down.

"I'm going to bed, now." Derek says, getting up. "You should get some sleep too. Just because you're a werewolf doesn't mean you don't need any sleep at all. If this keeps up, you'll get bags under your eyes to match your boyfriends."

There goes Derek again, with the overprotective Alpha thing. It doesn't happen all the time, he's like an older brother who- wait. "My what?"

"Your boyfriend." Derek snorts. "What? You thought I wouldn't notice?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. Scott and I are not dating." God. What is it with people thinking he's dating Scott? Just because he wanted to join some Alpha guy's pack, who actually seemed like he cared about what he was doing, did not meant they were dating. Sure, he'd lived in his house because his _current Alpha_ had _kicked him out,_ but that did not mean he wanted to kiss up Scott's feet, or anywhere else of his body, for that matter.

"I'm not talking about Scott." Derek once again, walks into the kitchen -to put his glass of the sink, no doubt-, with an Isaac following behind his tail.

"Then you are talking about ...?"

Yes, Derek does place his glass on the sink, but he walks right away from it, and to his room, after saying a simple name; "Stiles."

He frowns. "Excuse me?"

They both are walking up the stairs, Derek was totally aware that he was trying to speed up to his room, but Isaac was not aware that he was even climbing the stairs. All that got into his head right now, was he needed answers.

Derek sighs, exasperated. Isaac knows that he knows that Isaac won't leave him alone till _he_ knows what Derek means. As complicated as that sounds.

"Isaac, I've been a werewolf longer than you knew they existed, so I can smell emotions better than most. Did you really think I wouldn't even notice the way you look at him? And how you look away as soon as he's about to glance at you? And you came here with his scent over you, but I'm guessing that's because of the shirt you're wearing. Which, by the way, brings up the fact that you're wearing _, his_ shirt."

"I bled over my shirt!" Isaac protests. "And I do _not_ stare at him!" Does he?

"I wear the shirts I bleed in, till I can change in another one."

"That's because you're Derek Hale."

Derek gives Isaac a look before shutting his door. In Isaac's face.

He stays there for nearly ten minutes, staring at the door and trying to process everything, when Derek yells "Go to sleep, Isaac! It's 4 in the morning." Wasn't that the whole reason they started talking about it? Because he wasn't sleeping.

"Okay. You're thinking so loud, I can hear it through the door. Since when have you been thinking this much? Has Stiles really rubbed off on you too much?"

Isaac sighed, walking away, Derek would probably give him one-worded answers for the rest of the day. Though, Isaac had to hand it to him, he'd done a whole months worth talking in Derek-Hale-levels.

\--

He was greeted by the smell of pancakes when he woke up again.

Wasn't he at Derek's loft? Pancakes?

Isaac walks into the kitchen, sleepily.

"You're making pancakes?" Isaac asks, rubbing his eyes.

Derek nods

"Am I getting any?"

He gets a shake of the head as a reply.

"'Course not."

Getting a tilt of the head, Isaac turns back.

"You should get to school." Derek voice travels to him.

"I should go _where_?" Isaac doesn't bother to go back to the kitchen, instead sticks on sitting atop the couch.

"School."

"Why would I go to school today?" Isaac yawns.

"Because it's Monday."

"Its Monday?" Isaac exclaimed, finally beginning to shake the sleep off.

"And school starts in five minutes."

Isaac swears and grabs a cardigan and his backpack, bolting out the door without any breakfast. (What a shame.)

\--

Isaac wasn't panting after running to school. No sir, he was not. Even though he had ran miles and miles. But he was a werewolf. And sure, werewolves had limits too, but Isaac did not pant.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Scott asked him as he crashed against his locker.

"Yeah," Isaac breathes out, stuffing a bunch of things into his locker and grabbing his notebook.

"Are you ... nevermind," Scott shook his head, grabbing Isaac's backpack as it threatened to fall.

"I'm fine," Isaac replied, shutting his locker door. "Forgot today was Monday."

He looked around the hallways, there were barely any people there. Shit. He was late. Again.

"I did, too," Scott nods. "So we're both late. Don't worry, we might get off the hook if we make it to class now."

Isaac nods, starting to walk towards his class.

"Isaac?" Scott asks, making his head turn. "Why are you wearing Stiles' shirt?"

Isaac looked down at what he was wearing, and yes, he had forgotten to take it off last night, and now he was wearing Stiles' black shirt with a small Batman symbol under his dark cardigan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a whole month ((and 2 days)) since I uploaded the first chapter?! Woah!  
> Thank you guys so much for all these wonderful comments, and thank you so much for leaving me kudos ((and actually bookmarking this story, like wow)) it means and lot ♡
> 
> Okay, so some of you were praising on how I can actually capture Stiles and Isaac's characters, but now maybe you'll say Derek isn't entirely like this, but shh, guys, Derek, let's be honest, is a total sweetheart. And I just wrote the Derek Hale in my head ;)


	8. Stop Guessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles loves his best friend, he really does. But Scott can be a dolt sometimes.
> 
> And it doesn't help that the beautiful blue eyed boy sits with him in Chemistry.
> 
> Wearing his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to my wonderful friend Van. She's always making things for me, the least I can do is dedicate a chapter to her. I love you <3

Stiles was idly twirling the pen around his fingers when Scott walked in through the door, apologizing to the teacher.

He takes a seat next to Stiles without looking, and Stiles gives him a slight wave as a greeting.

"Hey," Scott says.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. They usually don't talk in class. Occasionally pass each other notes maybe, but don't talk unless it's really serious.

"I'm guessing you finally asked him out?" Scott asks.

Stiles leans forwards on his desk. "What?"

"I'm guessing you finally asked him out?" Scott repeats, getting his notebook out of his backpack.

"The hell are you talking about?"

Scott just glances at him, a 'Stiles-c'mon-we're-best-friends' expression on his face.

"For the love of God, Scott," Stiles tries to keep his voice low so that the teacher doesn't call him out. "I told you. I don't like Derek." _~~anymore~~_

"Not talking about Derek," Scott says, keeping his eyes on the board, a somewhat smile on his face.

 _Him?_  Which him? "Who, then?"

"A certain werewolf boy who showed up in your shirt a few minutes ago." Stiles' eyebrows drew together. "But you don't smell of him -at all, and it's just the shirt that carries your scent, so I'm guessing you guys kept it PG-"

"Scott, what the hell are you talking about? I haven't even seen-" _Wait._

Scott nods as he looks at Stiles registering everything.

"Don't get me wrong," Scott continues to talk. "I'm glad that you guys decided to be ... together. But telling me, both of your friend, would've been nice."

Stiles smacked the back of Scott's head rather loudly, making the teacher turn his head to face the class. Both boys hastily turned their heads to their books.

"I. Am not. Seeing Isaac." Stiles says lowly, knowing Scott would hear it anyways.

"Right." Scott replies, as Stiles rolls his eyes. "Because that explains why he's wearing your shirt."

-

It's lunchtime when Stiles and Isaac see each other again.

They end up sitting on the same table with Scott, and avoiding any contact -including eye contact.

That is, until Isaac's stomach growled loudly.

" _Dude_." Stiles finally looked at Isaac.

Isaac looked down in embarrassment.

"Have you not eaten anything?" Stiles asks, getting his curly fries -and a sandwich- out.

"Not really," Isaac shrugged, flicking through his Chemistry book, trying to finish his homework. "But it's fine. I'm not gonna die or anything, this happens a couple of times."

_Oh._

"Yeah," Isaac snorts. "Oh."

"No way, man," Stiles shakes his head, shoving his sandwich into Isaac's hand. "You're eating."

Isaac raises an eyebrow upward, as Scott pretends to be flipping through his textbook and minding his own business.

"What?"

"You just gave me your sandwich." Isaac stated.

"Uh, yeah, I'm aware."

"It's food."

Stiles was confused. Did this conversation have a point to it? "Yes, it is." Stiles drawls.

"You're sharing food?" Isaac asks in a tone of bewilderment.

Isaac's rewarded with the famous Stilinski glare. And, yeah, Isaac may have smiled.

The bell rings over their heads, loudly.

"Well, too late for that." Isaac shrugs, handing Stiles his sandwich.

"Are you kidding me, man," The two boys get up, Isaac gathering his things, and Stiles shaking his head. "There's like 5 minutes till we reach class, and you could eat this in a few seconds."

Reluctantly, Isaac takes the sandwich again.

"Gotta go, guys, AP class." Scott says, giving a wave. Then leans towards Stiles. "Guessing, by the way."

There's a twinkle in Scott's eye as he leaves. A twinkle that makes Stiles wonder _why_ his best friend's like this.

The sandwich hangs on Isaac's side on the way to the locker, then Stiles pipes up.

"Need I remind you, we're having Chemistry now, so I _will_  know if you eat -or do not eat- the sandwich." And with that, Stiles closes his locker.

Isaac rolls his eyes, then takes a bite.

After stopping by Isaac's locker, they both walked into class.

-

Scott had dropped Chemistry, so the only person Stiles was _(even slightly)_ friends with in class, was Isaac. Which lead to the two of them sitting next to each other.

The teacher walked in, and Stiles' mind had started drifting off.

Several minutes later, Stiles blinked, focusing back in the real world as there was a hand waving in front of his face.

"Stiles?" That was Isaac. "Earth to Stiles."

Stiles faces him. "Really?"

"What?" Now Isaac looks confused.

" _'Earth to Stiles'?_ " Stiles repeats. "Really?"

"Well, you weren't responding to anything else."

"What's the other things?"

Isaac suppressed a grin, and earning himself not just a glare, but also a punch.

Reflexively, he catches Stiles' wrist. 

"Ass," Stiles mutters, then feels a textbook thump the back of his head.

"Mr Stilinski ..." Stiles turns to the teacher who he swears got his personality from Severus Snape. "I would prefer if you study Covalent Bonds of _Chemistry_  rather than Human Anatomy, which is reserved for _Biology_."

Heat rushes up to Stiles' face as he nods.

"I'm guessing you haven't even done the homework I had assigned you three days ago?" He asks, noticing the fact that Stiles' book wasn't in the table.

 _They had homework?_ It wasn't normal for Stiles to forget his homework.

"Actually," Isaac intervened. "he did do it. I took his book last night, sorry."

And Isaac so kindly hands the teacher the book.

"I hope you didn't have to copy the work, Mr Lahey. I'm sure you could manage such a small piece of work without plagiarism. Unless, of course, you had been doing Mr Stilinski's homework. Which, by the way, is also forbidden, as I'm sure he could, too, have done the work on his own."

Did the guy _have_ to detail out all his sentences?

"Uh ... well, see, Stiles broke his hand ... so I had to do it for him. But he told me what to do, so ..."  
  
The scar on Stiles' hand made it easier to believe.  
  
"And Mr Stilinski has miraculously healed his arm in a amount of two days, I suppose." The teacher turns, walking away from the two boys.  
  
Realization hits Stiles now that the work Isaac was doing at lunchtime had not been Isaac's, but /his/. "You did my homework?" Stiles asks, getting a nod. "Why?"  
  
"Let's just say it's like a token of gratitude for practically saving my life the other day."  
  
Stiles remembers the name _"Isaac,"_ rip from his throat, red hot rage burning through him, as he ran towards the Omega facing Isaac's back. He remembers smashing the baseball bat into _splinters_ against the werewolves back because his claws and fangs were extended towards _Isaac._  
  
"I could've handled it on my own, though." Isaac continues. "No baseball bat needed. "  
  
There's another grin on Isaac's face as he hands Stiles his notebook.

-

"I'm so sorry, Stiles," Scott repeats. "You know I'd rather do the work than go there."

The glare doesn't leave Stiles' face as he responds with an; "I know."

"How about doing it with Isaac instead? You guys are like friends now." Stiles had never wanted to hit his best friend as much as he did at that moment. "At least I'm _guessing_ you guys are friends now."

"Well stop guessing," Stiles snaps over the phone. "I'm going to smack you the next time I see you, you know?"

"For which reason?"

"Both of them."

-

Scott and Stiles spoke for ten minutes more till Scott decided he was running out of time and he had to go.

"Isaac." Scott had reminded him before he hung up.

 _Yeah. Isaac._ Stiles snorts.

Another ten minutes of roaming around the empty house and contemplating whether or not to call Isaac, he finally picks up the phone.

And it takes five more minutes till he's dialing the number.

Once the person answers the line, Stiles has worked up his nerves and he's not going to fumble or ramble. He's not.

"Hey, Isaac, you free right now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. I am SOOOOO sorry for not updating in ages, I've been super busy. Hope you can forgive me. Thank you so much for reading <3
> 
> Also, idk if y'all have noticed I suck a Chapter Titles and Summaries lmao.


	9. Lacrosse Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac isn't really expecting a call from anyone.
> 
> He didn't have any plans for the day.
> 
> Until Stiles makes some for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to @edariel  
> You've commented on literally all of my chapters and that means so much! Thank you so so much! I love you!

The first thing Isaac noticed after stepping into the loft was the fact that Derek was gone. The second was that the door had been unlocked. Which was stupid, really, he should've noticed that as soon as he stepped in. The third thing was the fact that the door to his room was open.  
  
He steps into his room, cautiously, his ears perked up at any sound whether it was just the wind or not. His eyes sweep over every surface, and rests upon the coffee table. The last thing Isaac notices is a note attached to the top of the coffee table.  
  
_**Won't be back in a while - Derek**_  
  
Isaac huffs out a laugh then starts walks out. The phone in his front pocket starts ringing, making him jump slightly. He's still not used to having a phone.  
  
The caller ID flashes with "Stiles". _Odd._  
  
It's already rang a third time when Isaac accepts the call.  
  
"Hey, Isaac," He can hear Stiles scratching his head. "you free right now?"  
  
"Uh," Isaac let's his eyes sweep over the loft before answering; "Yeah, I guess. Why?"  
  
There's a series of noises before Stiles answers him back. "Well, actually, I was supposed to be doing this with Scott, but he's ... busy or something."  
  
"Okay. And the thing is?" He leans against the doorframe.  
  
"Could you ... maybe, help me practice lacrosse?" He can almost see Stiles pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
"You're working on your lacrosse?" He asks with fake surprise.  
  
"Oh shut up."  
  
Isaac's 89% sure Stiles just rolled his eyes, so he smiles. "I'll be there in 5 minutes."  
  
\--  
  
Thankfully, Isaac remembered to strip off of Stiles' shirt before heading to his house. He had almost forgotten. Again. What he didn't forget, though, was his lacrosse stick.  
  
Isaac's tempted to climb in through Stiles' window, but he knows he'll get a snarky response from Stiles about being like Derek, so he walks to the porch, then knocks on the door.  
  
He's greeted with a slightly sweaty Stiles. "Well isn't this a surprise."  
  
Isaac looks over his shoulder then back at Stiles. "Isn't what a surprise?"  
  
"Mister-Werewolves-Are-Too-Cool-For-Doors just knocked on one."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Isaac walks in, letting his eyes sweep over the living room. Observation, observation, observation. Nothing had really changed since the last time Isaac was there, it just looks messier now.  
  
"Don't complain about the room," Stiles warns. "You're a werewolf. Fur can literally appear on any part of your body, -and sometimes at will. All of them, too."  
  
Isaac looks at him, amused. "How would you know that we can make it appear on _any_  of our body parts?" He laughs at Stiles' change of expression. "I'm kidding. But, for your information, our loft -and rooms- are way cleaner than this."  
  
Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. "Sure." He says as Isaac drops his lacrosse stick on the ground.  
  
"Oh, it is true. You want to come over and check?"  
  
"No, thanks," Stiles snorts.  
  
"And why not? I've come over like three times."  
  
"Everytime I go there, something bad happens," Stiles shrugs, walking into the kitchen, and Isaac trails behind him. "And I'm usually there only to help with some werewolf stuff."  
  
Getting a glass, Stiles faces Isaac, silently challenging him.  
  
"Okay ... so?" He asks.  
  
"So?" Stiles repeats, incredulous. " _So_ my dear friend, is basically the fact that someone is about to die when I walk around that area. And I'm having a pretty okay week, _so_ I prefer for it to stay that way and avoid death for anyone -apart from the bad guys- at any cost."  
  
His stares at Stiles, eyes sweeping over the warm brown hues, and down to the little nose that wasn't supposed to be cute, but totally was. And if Isaac was connecting his cheek moles like a visual dot-to-dor well-  
  
"Is there something on my face?" Stiles looks away, despite his snarky words.  
  
_Just beauty._ "No," Isaac shakes his head, shifting his gaze at Stiles' glass. "I was just ... uh ... wondering when you'd start practicing."  
  
"You're actually going to help?" Stiles asks.  
  
"No," Isaac says, meeting Stiles' eyes again, this time not losing his focus. "I'm going to slowly and horribly murder you and then shuck your body out into the woods so no one finds it for a while."  
  
"Don't brutally murder me, Isaac," Stiles mock-gasps, walking to the fridge.  
  
Isaac snorts "I refrain from it, trust me."  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes and questions, "Do you want some juice?"  
  
"Yeah," He swings his legs over the chair placed next to the table of the kitchen. "Derek keeps drinking mine."  
  
"Oh yeah, you guys installed a kitchen and all that now, didn't you?" Stiles kicks the door of the fridge close.  
  
He nods. "Yeah, took us like a day. It wasn't that hard."  
  
"Says the werewolf," Stiles pours the juice into two glasses.  
  
"Quotes the human."  
  
Stiles looks mildly impressed at Isaac's comment. "Been doing a little reading, Lahey?"  
  
"Not more than usual." Isaac shrugs.  
  
"You read?" Stiles' eyes widened.  
  
"Perhaps." Isaac shrugs once again, picking up his glass to take a gulp.  
  
"I didn't know you read." Stiles picks his glass up, too.  
  
Isaac rolls his shoulders, then puts his glass down, narrowing his eyes at Stiles in a mocking way. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me."  
  
Both boys end up laughing after a minute of challenged silence.  
  
"But it is true." Stiles nods. "You've managed to be quite mysterious, gotta applaud you for that."  
  
"Thanks," Isaac flashes a smile. "I do try."  
  
"You know, just yesterday I thought you didn't have a phone." Stiles continues after they finish drinking their juices.  
  
"How'd you find out, then?" Isaac asks.  
  
"Scott." He says simply. "Gave it to me today. Said I should have your number since we're 'getting along so well'. If we're really _getting along so well,_ why didn't you just give it to me?"  
  
"Didn't know you cared." Isaac places his glass in the sink. "Or if you needed it."  
  
"Well looks like I did need it."  
  
"Looks like you did." He nods. "Are we going to practice outside, near the woods?"  
  
"No, Isaac, we're going to play in my room." Sarcasm drips from Stiles' voice.  
  
"Ah. Virtual lacrosse. Knew you weren't going to get involved in physical activities." Isaac teases. He was, of course, kidding, he knew Stiles could handle physical activities, especially since he genuinely seemed like he wanted to work on his lacrosse.   
  
"Oh shut up," Stiles lightly shoves him, walking ahead, towards the backdoor.  
  
Unconsciously, Isaac runs a hand through his hair, smiling.  
  
"Don't forget your lacrosse stick in the living room." Stiles reminds him.  
  
-  
  
"We need a ... we need a break." Stiles pants, hand against a tree.  
  
"Stiles we literally just started." Isaac rolls his eyes.  
  
"Uh, ... no we did not. We've ... been running for hours." Stiles shakes his head.  
  
"Three minutes." Isaac corrects.  
  
_"Three minutes."_ He mimics.  
  
"We haven't even started lacrosse!" Isaac protests. "We barely finished the warm up!"  
  
"Yeah ... okay ... another day."  
  
"No."  
  
"What do you mean 'no'?"  
  
"No," Isaac repeats, "as in, no, we're not doing this another day. We're doing it today."  
  
"Make me." Stiles crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
"Fine." Comes a simple reply from Isaac as he lifts the human boy over his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, no fair!" Stiles protests.  
  
"You told me to make you," Isaac says, nearing their destination.  
  
"I didn't know you'd actually hoist me over your shoulder!"  
  
"Mm, well I did."  
  
"Screw you, Lahey." Stiles mutters.  
  
"Stop throwing sexual phrases my way, Stilinski." He shoots back, putting Stiles down.  
  
Stiles brushes the mud off his jeans.  
  
"I never say anything sexual!"  
  
"Congratulations." Isaac nods.  
  
"For?" Stiles asks, confused.  
  
"You've just made the best joke of the century." Isaac laughs.  
  
Stiles looks like he's about to roll his eyes when face morphs into a frown. "Could you ... say that again?"  
  
"What?" He asks. "'You've just made the best joke of the century'?"  
  
"I've just made ... the best joke of the century ..." Stiles parrots.  
  
Then, Isaac finally understands what's happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, sorry I'm late, chapters was delayed, because of a looooot of things.  
> Things were going on back here, and then Donald Trump became president??? And my Internet shut down! The only reason I got to post this, is because I'm at my friends house lmao.


	10. One Score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles realizes what happened the other night.
> 
> Thankfully nothing too big happens, and both boys go back to playing.
> 
> There's a movie break, too, so all seems to be going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to @astrospace  
> Thank you oh so very much for liking the story so from and dropping little comments ♡♡

_I've just made the best joke of the century._

It's like Stiles had gone through a tunnel, phrases being repeated, scenes being replayed.

Wishing Isaac was there with him at the club.

Thinking "Holy mother of hotness." as Isaac walked in, looking at him.

Placing his hand over Isaac's. _"You're so tense."_

Suggesting that Isaac sleep beside him. _"I could sleep on the floor with my favourite blankets and you could sleep on my bed."_

_"Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean I can't think straight."_

_"I'm like half gay."_

_"I sort of got over Derek."_

_"You're the one who really opened my eyes."_

_"'Oh shit, boys are attractive'."_

_"I thought YOU were attractive."_

_"Maybe I have specific guys I like."_

_"I think you should kiss me."_

_"I still think that you should kiss me."_

Stiles came back to the present and staggered backwards. _"That's_  what I said?" He asks. "That's why ... Oh God." He rubs his face with his palm. "God. I am so sorry."

Isaac looks helpless for a second. "It's okay," He manages. "you were drunk."

Isaac was right about the fact that Stiles was drunk. But if he thought that that meant that Stiles didn't mean what he had said, he was wrong. Stiles had been attracted to Isaac for a longer time than he'd like to admit, and had only recently discovered it. 

"Uh- yeah." Is the thing Stiles so intelligently comes up with. He doesn't let his eyes go to Isaac's face and see what his expression was.

"Let's ... let's just go back to lacrosse?" Since when had Isaac become the one who came up with the plans and distractions before Stiles did?

He musters up a nod, not wanting to talk, fearing he may say the wrong thing.

"This time with actual lacrosse," Isaac suggests, a small smile playing on his lips. "instead of a three minute jogging session?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, smiling, despite himself. "Bring it on."

"Oh? You feel like you can play now?" Isaac asks.

Stiles nods again, picking his lacrosse stick up. Something about realizing what happened that night has made his adrenaline pick up.

"Alright, we'll see." Isaac positions himself in front of the makeshift goal post.

There's a little run Stiles starts of with before flicking the lacrosse stick to make the ball fly off. For a second Stiles' world fell into place. He thought he scored. About to break out into a victory fist bump (followed of course by a small dance), Isaac moves one muscle and catches the ball.

"I- what!" Stiles exclaims. "No way! That was cheating!"

"Cheating?" Isaac muses. "And how so?"

"You totally used your werewolf ... powers!"

"My ... werewolf powers?" Isaac repeats.

"There's was no other way you could've caught the ball!"

"Stiles," Isaac laughs. "Maybe you just suck that bad?"

"Turn off your werewolf abilities." He grumbles back.

"Uh ... I don't think I can. It's _a part of me,_ you know?"

"Well stop enhancing them!"

And so, the bickering goes on for a while, till the finally settle on rolling with the flow and just playing. Isaac said, "If you beat me, anyway, that'll mean that you're better than a werewolf!" and Stiles was in.

After approximately twenty minutes of continuous playing and Stiles shouting, he finally manages to score. He hadn't even noticed at first, becoming so used to not scoring, it takes him a minute to register what happened- and even when he did, it was because of Isaac.

"Did you just ..." Isaac looks at the ball laying down a few feet away.

"I- ..." Stiles drops his stick. "I did!" And there's Stiles' fist pump for the air, a victory yell and dance.

"What the heck are you doing? Are you going to sacrifice an animal for the Lord above now?" Isaac asks, laughing.

"I might as well!" Stiles exclaims. "I just scored a point-" He points a finger a Isaac, "-when you said I couldn't!"

"I'm kidding. You didn't shoot it there. I threw it." Isaac grins.  
-

After playing properly for a while, they both went back inside to take a break and watch a movie.

"The only reason I'm allowing you to choose the movie that we'll be watching is because you actually played, today," Isaac says to him from the couch, munching on popcorn.

"Hmm, let's watch Twilight, then," There's mischief in Stiles' eyes.

A piece of popcorn lands on Stiles' head, and he faces the culprit. "Shut up," is the answer he gets. He knows why, he knows what happened last time Isaac watched Twilight. _("I don't understand, why would Bella choose_ Edward _!?")_

"Okay, okay, how about Wreck-It-Ralph?"

"Isn't that a game?" Isaac questions.

" _Dude_  you are _so_  far behind."

-

After watching Wreck-It-Ralph and The Lorax, they went back to lacrosse.

_("I didn't know you like animated movies!"_

_"Everyone loves animated movies, Stiles.")_

They switched positions every minute, however, to say Stiles was getting better as the goalie would be a lie, but at least his back shots were getting better, which he would consider an achievement as Scott was always telling him to work on them.

"How long do we have to do this for?" Stiles whines, tossing the ball back at Isaac.

"We have to do this till your lacrosse skills get better." Isaac replies simply, hurling the ball at the makeshift goal, effortlessly scoring.

"Remind me why you're doing this, again?" Stiles groans, once again, fetching the ball, but this time walking to Isaac's place as he takes his position.

"Because you told me to make you," Isaac keeps his eyes trained on Stiles' lacrosse stick. "And you wanted to."

"Okay, well, I don't want to anymore," Stiles says, aimlessly throwing the ball over to the goalpost.

"You're getting better," Isaac catches the ball, once again, then gives it back to Stiles. "Trust me."

"But it's not good enough!" And with that, Stiles flings the ball as hard as he can. What he hadn't expected was for the ball to actually go into the (makeshift) goal, and miss Isaac's lacrosse stick which was coming to defend it.

He clamps a hand over his mouth, just slightly, so he can mumble the words; "Did you do that on purpose again?"

"I ... actually ... no." Isaac looks at him.

Stiles breaks into an enormous grin, running around, and jumping over the makeshift goal post, crunching the leaves.

"What are you doing?" Isaac laughs, turning to look at him.

"I'm better than you!" Stiles claims, he thinks Isaac might fear that he's going hysterical.

Isaac scoffs. "And who told you that?' He asks.

"You did!" Stiles protests. "Remember? _'If you score one point, that'll mean that you're better than a werewolf!'"_

"Yeah ... no, I'm pretty sure I said _'_ _beat me'_  in the game, and not _'score ONE point'._ " Isaac narrows his eyes.

"Puh-lease, Isaac," He swings his swings his lacrosse stick over, and walks towards Isaac. "I can _totally_  beat you now. Did you even _see_  my score?"

"Oh, I did," Isaac nods. "Which is why I think you just got lucky."

Stiles stands in front of Isaac. "Is that so, big boy?" He asks, earning a look from Isaac, as if asking _"Did you just call me big boy?"_

He nods. "You probably just scored out of anger."

Stiles' eyes blow with bewilderment. "Anger?"

"Yeah, you got frustrated with playing so much lacrosse, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"I'm a werewolf, remember?"

"So you were using your abilities!" Yells Stiles  in triumph.

"Hey! _I_  didn't say that! The smelling thing comes naturally."

"Tell me, Isaac, have you ever heard of Harry Potter?"

"As a matter of fact, I've read some of the books." Isaac crosses his arms over his chest.

"You- what?" Stiles' eyes go wide again. "You have?"

Isaac nods, as Stiles continues, "Hold on. Why only some?"

"I haven't had a lot of time, dimwit, couldn't really do anything I enjoyed for a while. Not sure if that rings a bell."

"Okay, well, we've got to get you back on track, then," Stiles nods absent-minded, wondering where exactly he's kept all his copies of the books, and when to get Isaac to read them.

"Back to the track, then?"

"What?" Stiles looks at Isaac again.

"You were saying something about Harry Potter?"

"I- Oh yeah! Well, you know the ones that can read your mind?"

"Legilimens?"

"Yeah," Stiles nods, quite surprised that Isaac knows. "Well, they can go about knowing what people are thinking about, but sometimes they shut it off so, you too, can probably _shut it off_."

"Well, actually, they don't 'shut it off'-" que the dramatic quotation marks, "-they just don't pay a lot of attention to them."

"Technically the same thing," Stiles argues. "But anywho. You _are_  paying attention to them."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." There's mischief in _Isaac's_  eyes this time. "But either way, you still couldn't beat me," He muses.

"Prove it, then," Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, as well. "We'll play a match _without any werewolf powers_  and see who wins. And if I win, it proves I'm right. And that I'm better."

Isaac opens his mouth, but Stiles interrupts him. "-Oh, and, afterwards, you have to buy me pizza. Now your turn. Take your pick."

"If I win," Isaac's eyes are on his face. "Do I get to kiss you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write this chapter 2 days ago but get too lazy to post it? Maybe, maybe not.
> 
> Have you ever heard of "No proofreading, we die like men."? Because I am that motto, ((Unless it's an essay for school lmao)) So I apologize for every typo you guys come across haha


	11. Hopeful Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, what Isaac said hit Stiles by a surprise, but it hit Isaac, too.
> 
> He's got no control over himself, sometimes, he suspects.
> 
> However, nothing takes a turn for the worse, instead, it takes a turn for the better, so Isaac let's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my good friend, Cara, actually,  
> I literally love you so much, my toll beanstalk. Love you more, forever and always ♡  
> You've helped me through so much, I probably wouldn't have made it all the way here without you.  
> Do you have any idea of how strong you are? One of the strongest I've ever known.  
> I'm so glad that we've found each other, you have no clue.  
> And I’ll always have your back, even when you don’t want me to.

Perhaps Isaac looked calm, but the truth was, before the words had even left his mouth, his heart started hammering against his chest

"What?" Stiles' face wasn't one full of banter any more.

"Nothing," Isaac shakes his head, he couldn't go through that again. He couldn't say it. Why _had_ he even said that?

"So you were just messing around." Isaac sees Stiles' shoulders drop slightly, and was that ... disappointment he could smell?

"Didn't say that," He counters, letting his eyes fall to the lacrosse stick in his hands.

He can feel Stiles' frown. "You're really confusing sometimes, you know?"

"Not like you're any better," Both boys roll their eyes in unison, causing the other to chuckle.

"I was kind of ..." Isaac starts. "I was thinking about what Derek told me when we were watching The Lorax, a while ago ... and it made me realize that he may have been right ..." Isaac suspected Derek usually was.

"Right about?" Stiles' eyebrows wrinkle in confusion.

"Do you think I stare at you a lot?" He asks instead. "Or do you ... notice me staring at you?"

"You do?" Stiles' eyes go wide.

"Yeah ... I mean, I guess ..." Isaac scratches the back of his head. Words, he's not good with words. "Derek kinda brought it up ... and ... you know ..."

"No," He shakes his head. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

"I guess I do," Isaac mumbles. "I don't even notice I'm doing it sometimes."

"Holy shit," Isaac hears Stiles whisper.

He doesn't know what to do, besides kick a nearby rock. "I understand if that's kinda weird. Sorry."

"No," Stiles says a bit louder. "Are you serious?"

"You really need to stop doing that," Isaac frowns, finally looking at him. He doesn't like talking about this out loud. Doesn't like talking about anything out loud, really, not when it's related to him and his ... problems?

"Sorry. It's a habit." Stiles frowns, too, more at himself than at Isaac. "Can I ask one more question?"

"After the game," Isaac suggests, he needs to brush off this energy by playing. Or running. Playing _and_  running would be a wonderful mixture for him. Which is exactly what he plans on doing.

"Sure."

True to his words, Isaac doesn't use or heighten his abilities. However, it does become clear that Stiles just sucks at Lacrosse.

"It's just," Stiles pants, a hand against his stomach, and the other balancing on his lacrosse stick. "You're just- you're good- ... at Lacrosse."

"Well, they're not going to put lousy players on the team," Isaac rolls his eyes, not even slightly out of breath. "You've got to step up your game. So you'll be as good, or even better, than them."

Stiles scoffs. "Won't be anywhere near that."

"Don't say that, you can start playing ... well."

"Don't think anyone believes that," Stiles holds his lacrosse stick up again.

"Yeah, well, I believe it."

Stiles nods and cocks his head to the side; his little way of letting Isaac he's back in the game.

-

When Isaac shot his second score in, Stiles gave in, flopping to the floor.

"I give up," He wailed. "I'm never gonna play lacrosse ever again."

"You can't do that," Isaac inquired. "You're on the team, Coach isn't going to let you back out."

"I'll just go to the field and show him how honestly terrible I am at Lacrosse, and he'll be the one kicking me out of the team."

"Tough luck there," He shakes his head. "He might just end up making you team captain, then. You've gotten better Lacrosse by more than you think."

"You're aiming too high," Stiles says, face down against the grass.

"Okay, maybe. But you _are_  getting way better. You've improved a lot." Isaac replies. "For example, in the two and a half hours we've been playing, I've only gotten _two_  scores."

Stiles took that into consideration, then flopped down again. "Yeah, whatever. I'm tired, I don't want to play anymore."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"I wanna watch some movies and play video games," Stiles' voice is muffled by the grass. "And you can't tell me not to. You're not my parent."

"So I win, then?" Isaac questioned.

"Guess so," Stiles gets up, ready to walk back into the house.

He nods and takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves. "Well, before the game you had a question you wanted to ask?"

"Oh yeah," Stiles' eyes are at his face for a second, then behind him the next. "Do you ... like me? Like ... _like_  like me?"

It's Isaac's turn to look away from Stiles' eyes and be silent for a moment. "Yeah," He says softly, almost as a whisper.

There's a change in emotion in Stiles' scent. Isaac, however, is not sure which emotion it is.

"So, what was your part of the deal, again?" Stiles questions finally looking at Isaac once again.

"I asked if I could kiss you?" He replies uncertainly, meeting Stiles' gaze. "... but no. No, we don't have to. Forget it, you can buy me pizza instead."

"No," Stiles says, shrugging and coming closer to him. "You won. You get your wish." There's a pause where Stiles looks like he's contemplating what to do, and how to do it, then he leans in, whispering, "And to tell you the truth, I did remember what your offer was. Just wanted to hear you say that again,"

To say that it was the perfect kiss, with confetti exploding in their heads would be an understatement. Well, actually, no, that would be a blunt lie.

It was awkward, much more than anyone would expect it to be, even for teenagers, partially because of their height difference.

Stiles puts his hands on Isaac's collar, lightly pulling him down, and Isaac goes with it, finally stepping out of the trance he was in. As Isaac tilts his head to the side slightly, the pressure on his shoulder was gone, and so was the one on his lips.

"You're a terrible kisser," Stiles finally breathes out, smiling.

"Actually, no. You are," He resists reaching out and brushing his thumb against Stiles' lips. As weird as it would be, especially considering the fact that he'd just called Isaac a terrible kisser. "I just wasn't prepared. I happen to be a wonderful lip locker."

Stiles let's out a puff of air, which Isaac suspects is supposed to be a laugh. "You weren't prepared? Even though you were the one proposing the deal?"

"Do I have to remind you that you were the one kissing me?"

"Shut up." He says, voice empty of seriousness. "So you want to do that again? With you being 'prepared' this time?"

"I'd probably do that even if you didn't ask. Just to prove that I'm a brilliant kisser."

"Isaac, shut up." Stiles repeats, winding his arms around Isaac's shoulder.

"Gladly."

-

Somehow, both the boys end up on the couch, back to chest, watching Star Wars. Well, Stiles was watching Star Wars, Isaac was watching Stiles. Whose head resists on top of Isaac's shoulder.

"You're dozing off, again," Isaac says, gently.

Stiles blinks his eyes open and yawns. "Okay, that settles it. Let's go up and play some video games."

Perhaps unconsciously, but Stiles grabs Isaac's hand, to lead him upstairs, and Isaac's heart leaps out of his chest, once more. Things like Stiles holding his hand, or any kind of physical contact with him makes Isaac feel something. He doesn't understand what it is, yet, however, that's only because he's new to this feeling. Maybe not completely new, though, he has a feeling he's experienced this when he was younger. Isaac hopes it doesn't disappear too soon.

When Stiles falls face-first into the rug, also slamming into his controller, Isaac carries him to his bed.

"'M not tired," Stiles argues, frowning with his eyes closed.

"No, of course not," Isaac pulls up Stiles' blanket to cover him in. "You fell asleep during a game because you were so hyped with energy."

"Too much energy does that to people," Stiles nods.

"I'm sure it does," And just because Stiles is half asleep and Isaac has an odd feeling to do so, he cards his hand through Stiles' hair. Luckily, he's rewarded with a sleepy smile. "But it's past 1, you need to sleep now."

"Fine." Stiles mumbles, frowning again. "But only because there's school tomorrow,"

"Glad you remember," Isaac nods, getting up and off the bed. "Anyways, see you tomorrow, then."

Before Isaac can make it out of the bedroom, a hand reaches out to grab his.

One word falls from Stiles' lips.

"Stay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY WORD COUNT HIT 1424 FOR THIS CHAPTER, I'M LAUGHING SO HARD ((Because Lahey Stilinski -lacrosse numbers-)) OMF  
> I think I'm past the point of making up excuses to make up for my lateness haha  
> But things have been tough around here for a while, I'm terribly sorry.
> 
> And, um, the kiss scene might've taken more than a day to do because  
> 1) I've never actually written a meaningful kiss scene me before  (if you check out my other stisaac story, you'll notice how I dodged writing the kiss scene lmao)  
> 2) I didn't know if what I wrote for the kiss scene actually looked like a kiss scene haha  
> 3) ... Because I'm a hardcore procrastinator :)  
> So that's why I dodged this one, too lmao
> 
> But of course, thank you soooooo much for sticking with the story anyway, and again, I'm terribly sorry for being late ♡♡♡


	12. Past Formalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac had stopped walking. Partially because Stiles held on to him, but because of what he offered, too.
> 
> But Stiles meant it, he really wanted Isaac to stay, despite his nightmares.
> 
> He wanted to try help, too, but he knew just staying with him wouldn't make the nightmares leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Repost)
> 
> This chapter's dedicated to @adrienette,  
> I hope you were kidding about crying over my last chapter, I can't have anyone crying here ;)  
> But thank you so much for commenting, it makes my day! :)♥
> 
> Alright, let me set the honesty plates on the table.  
> Another reason why I may upload a little late is because I actually sorta wait for comments to pop up. I thrive comments, they're awesome!  
> I'm not saying you need to tell me how (not)amazing my chapter was, no, I don't mind, s'okay, but anything would do!  
> Even if it's criticism, I'll gladly welcome that, too ♥

Stiles felt Isaac's fingers twitch, and saw his shoulders tense. "I can't ... I-"

"I know," Stiles interrupts, opening his eyes to face Isaac's back. "Stay anyway."

He hasn't let go of his grip on Isaac's hand (even though its making Stiles' fingers tingly and warm) but hesitates to keep it there, afraid he may be pushing his boundaries by touching him so much.

He does, anyway, tug Isaac's hand, just because Isaac wasn't doing anything. When he turns, Stiles talks again, "I also know that you're going away, not for yourself, but for me. You're not leaving because you're uncomfortable around here, you're leaving so that you don't 'bother' me. But Isaac, you're not going to bother me. And I think it'll help if you stay over."

Isaac doesn't look scared, he just looks ... anxious. "Are- are you sure?"

"Very sure." He squeezes his hand, and receives another squeeze back a second later.

"Okay," Isaac nods. "I'll, uh,- ... where are the sleeping bags, again?"

"We're way past formalities," Stiles tugs his hand again. "Hop in."

No, no of course there wasn't an awkward moment while Isaac was climbing in. At least, if you as Stiles, he'll deny it. When Isaac turned to his side for the third time, Stiles did too. He let out a chuckle, "You can stay on your side, I don't mind. It's really up to you on however you want to sleep."

"I'm sorry," Isaac apologizes, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm just- I'm not sure what to do. And I'm kind of ... uh, nervous."

"You don't have to be, it's really okay staying over." Then, as a second thought, Stiles adds, "And Scott used to stay over before."

"Yeah, but, I'm not Scott." Isaac let's his head settle against the pillow.

"Mm, yeah. But you're also a bit more than Scott."

At that, Isaac's eyes flew open. "What?"

"I mean ... obviously, you're not Scott as a person, but at the same time, in friend base, you're a little more than Scott, aren't you?"

"Um. Uh- do you want me to be?"

"Dude, I kissed you, then let you kiss me, and now you're in my bed." Stiles says. "I think that's pretty given as itself."

"I dunno. I mean ... you could kiss anyone. And as you said, Scott's come over a couple of times. And I can still find his scent on your bed, so ..."

"That's totally different. Scott and I are Bros. And I don't just _kiss anyone_."

"Oh. That's uh ... that's good to know." Isaac nods.

Stiles nods back, turning to his back.

When he turns his head to look at Isaac after a few minutes, he's sees that Isaac's fallen asleep. He shakes his head, feeling tired, as well.

-

After an hour or so Stiles feels something smack against his side. He groans, sitting up and trying to open his eyes to turn to find the source that hit him.

Turns out, it was Isaac's hand. Isaac himself was drenched in sweat, his eyes squeezing shut as he continuously shifted in his sleep.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, waking up properly enough to take in the scene. "Isaac," He reached out and shook Isaac softly. "Wake up." When there wasn't any response from Isaac, except increased tension, Stiles shook him harder. "Isaac! Hey, dude, wake up! Isaac!"

Isaac's eyes flew open as he sat up. "No! Lis-," He took in his surroundings, panting. "Wha- what? Stiles? Are you- you're okay?"

"Hey. Uh, I am? But I don't think we should worry about me, right now. I think you were having a nightmare." Stiles says, frowning, not knowing whether Isaac wants him to approach this topic.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry." Isaac's head hangs low.

"You don't need to be. It's okay. Not your fault."

Nodding, Isaac closes his eyes.

"Can I, uh,... is it okay to touch you? Like, are you alright with me hugging you?"

Isaac gives a slight roll of his shoulder which Stiles takes as a yes and reaches out for Isaac. There's a couple of seconds where Isaac's tense, but then he starts to relax into the embrace. Stiles runs his hand through his hair when he drops his head on the crook of Stiles' neck.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Stiles asks.

Isaac shakes his head. After Stiles nods and says it's okay, and that he doesn't need to, he adds, "Maybe later."

"Take your time." He continues petting his hair. At a time, he knows he'd make a joke about it. But not now.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." Isaac says, barely a whisper.

Stiles suspects he isn't aware of how he woke him up, but he decides against on telling him that, thinking it would make him feel worse. "Don't be. I'm glad you did. And anyways, did you wake up before? You're sweating a lot, you should've taken your shirt off."

"I didn't wake up before," his voice is muffled against Stiles' skin.

"Oh." Aren't words his thing? Where were they?

"I sometimes ... I can't wake up till someone makes me."

That is definitely not something Isaac would tell someone. "Really?" He asks. He doesn't stop running his hand through Isaac's hair as he let's the other one trail off to his torso. "Then why in the world would you want to be alone?"

"I think that's why. I don't want to trouble anyone." Isaac shifts his head higher, to Stiles' shoulder.

"You won't be troubling me." Stiles says, firmly. "You don't have to be alone for these things."

There's a muffled "mhmm" which confirms the fact that Isaac doesn't completely believe him.

"Hey, listen. I'm serious. I want to be there for you." He does. Stiles has never known how much he'd actually wanted to help Isaac before, but he wants to protect him from all harm, he wants to keep him beside himself for as long as he can.

"I know you are," Isaac replies. "I know. I'm just not used to this, so ... I don't know how to handle it."

"As long as you know." And that's the truth. As long as Isaac knows at least one person cares, he's content.

He feels Isaac's curls brush against the side of his neck as he nods. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me for anything,"

"Thank you, anyway,"

"Not a problem at all," Stiles sighs, settling his head on top of Isaac's.

They stay like that for a while, before Isaac realizes that he's probably heavy enough to make Stiles' arms go numb, even though they weren't exactly gripping him tight anymore. Isaac told him that he knows his back and arms were definitely cramping. Stiles said they weren't, so Isaac put a hand over his, and when his vein turned black, Stiles gave up and laid down next to him. He threw an arm over Isaac's hip for good measure, too.

-

When Stiles woke up again, Isaac was gone. He groggily dragged himself to the washroom before going off on an expedition to find Isaac.

Isaac was in the kitchen, apparently, and he was surprisingly in front of the stove.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks. He knows he wouldn't have startled Isaac, due to his super hearing, so he doesn't bother starting off with a greeting.

"Trying to make another egg." Isaac answers back.

"Trying?"

"Well, uh ... I think there's no more eggs."

Stiles peers over Isaac's shoulder. He spots three broken egg shells. "By any chance ... did you happen to, I don't know, eat some of the eggs?"

Isaac slowly pushes the shells away. "No ... what would make you think that."

"Gee, I wonder." He rolls his eyes. "But anyways, how are you going to try to make another egg without any ... eggs?"

"Well, I won't. But you guys need more eggs." Isaac nods, getting two glasses and setting them against the counter.

"Really? I would've never known." Stiles responds.

"It's so early in the morning, how is your sarcasm button already jammed?" Isaac questions, getting the orange juice out of the fridge to pour it to their glasses.

"Same way your sass mode is always activated."

"I haven't even sassed you yet!" He puts the container back into the fridge and walks over to where Stiles is sitting on the table. Then, he puts two of the glasses down in front both of them each, and another set of plates that contain turkey bacon in them.

"Yet." Stiles points out. "And I don't mean to criticize this luxury and have it get taken away, but how and why did you wake up so early and make these?"

"I didn't go back to sleep," Isaac shrugs, sitting down across Stiles. "Then I got bored and decided to make you some breakfast for keeping me around."

"You didn't sleep?" Stiles frowns. "And dude. No problem. You can crash in anytime." He hoped Isaac would, anyway. In fact, he hoped Isaac would crash in most of the time.

"Couldn't sleep," He responds.

"You should get some more sleep, though. Do you take naps?"

Isaac faces him like he's asked him the world's stupidest question ever. "I haven't taken a nap since I was, like, five, Stiles,"

"Why not?"

"There wasn't any time for naps," Isaac's shoulders square as if he wanted the topic shut.

"Well, you've got loads of time here. Take naps whenever you feel like any."

"I'd rather not,"

"Well, alright. But get more sleep, okay?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, of course."

"To who?"

"Whom,"

"What?" Isaac's eyebrows draw together.

"It's to whom, not who," Stiles feels like smacking himself. "Sorry. Anyways,"

"Alright, then, Shakespeare, to _whom_  does it concern?" Isaac looks like he's resisting rolling his eyes.

"Me."

Isaac looks back down at his plate, stabbing a bacon piece.

"I mean it," Stiles says, softly.

"Thank you," Isaac's voice is softer.

If they were sitting beside each other and their hands were free, Stiles would probably squeeze Isaac's hand. "Don't mention it." Stiles then, finally, takes a bite off the bacon. His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open for a few seconds. " _Holy crap_. This is ... this is amazing!"

"It is?" Isaac frowns, eating one of his own. "Well, I didn't really do much. I just ... fried it."

"Well, congratulations, because from now on, you'll be frying all the bacon for me." When Isaac raised an eyebrow, he hastily added a, "please,"

"I'll think about it," Is his reply. "But this _does_  taste pretty good. Is it okay if I grab some more bacon later today?"

"As long as you give me some, too."

Isaac hummed in response.

A comfortable silence draped itself over the two boys. Till it got uncomfortable for the human.

 _Don't make it awkward_ , Stiles chides himself. _Keep it to yourself. Not now. Save it for later. Like when you're dying._  But of course, since Stiles has a reputation of not listening to anyone, he manages to extend it to himself, too.

"By the way, I ... uh, I really like you," Stiles voices out loud, looking at his plate and making his fork nudge a piece of bacon.

Isaac snorts, taking a bite of his piece. Stiles can't tell if he's looking at him or not. "Yeah, I thought that was pretty given. With you kissing me, then letting me kiss you, and making me sleep on your bed."

"There's the sass I mentioned. But you know what I mean, moron." Stiles rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smile.

Not hiding his own smile, Isaac nods, "So I do."

He nods back. Then after a minute of silence, Stiles breaks it, unable to handle it anymore. "Now are you gonna make a move or what."

"Am I going to make a move?" Isaac repeats.

"Yes. Are you going to make a move? Or what?"

"I've already made a move!" Isaac argues. They're back to facing each other again. "In fact, I've made more than just one!"

"What? And when?"

"Oh let me think. Maybe the time where I suggested we should _kiss_ if I won the game. Maybe where I told you I liked you? I think the fact that I wrapped my arms around you while we were watching the movie counts, too."

"Then why didn't you say anything?!"

"Excuse me? I'm pretty sure I just mentioned the time where I _already_  confessed to you?"

Stiles finds himself thinking that only the two of them would be arguing about these things. "Hey, but then, so did I!"

"You were _drunk_ , Stiles!"

"But I said something! And anyways, after that, when I did get sober, tell me that it wasn't obvious I had a crush on you. Look me in the eyes and tell me my crush for you wasn't obvious."

Isaac looks Stiles in the eyes, settling the tip of his fork against the table. "I'm Isaac. Isaac Lahey. And if you told me straight to my face that you liked me since the moment you laid eyes on me, I wouldn't believe it."

"I didn't say I liked you since the moment I laid eyes on you!" Stiles' face heats up.

"I know. I was just saying I wouldn't believe someone if they told me that," A smirk forms against his lips after saying those words. "But your reaction to that ... makes me think otherwise now,"

"Well it shouldn't," Stiles breaks eye contact with him, as his phone buzzes up. "School starts in ten minutes. It'll be best if we leave now," He tells Isaac, cancelling his alarm.

"Don't tell me you have an alarm for school," Isaac takes his plate to the sink to wash.

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but yes, I do have an alarm for reminding me when I'm running late,"

"You haven't even finished your breakfast," Isaac notes.

"Well, I ate a lot of it, there's like three pieces," Stiles frowns, stuffing one into his mouth, and Isaac appears beside him, and takes the other two pieces for himself. "Hey! No fair! Those were mine, you already had yours!"

"That's what you get for procrastinating with your food," Isaac grins, taking his plate and putting it in the sink, too.

"I was trying to savour it!"

"Well, don't you know? If you procrastinate with your food, a fairy is gonna come over and take some of them."

"What? No! Who said that?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Stiles literally wants to stab himself over ninety-six times with the fork he was using. Why does he always say 'Oh' every time Isaac tells him something?! "Does that make you the fairy?"

Stiles doesn't miss the small smile. "Guess so."

Stiles' phone buzzes again. "Seven minutes till school starts. We should leave." He makes a grab for his school bag and then realizes that Isaac probably doesn't have _his_  bag with him. "Oh, do you ... uh, did you bring your bag with you?"

"Might have done that while you were sleeping, too ..." Isaac says, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

"You did? How long was I out for?" Stiles asks, bewildered.

"Not very long after we woke up. Need I remind you, I'm a werewolf." Isaac answers, picking his bag off the ... couch? Was it there the whole time? Did Stiles see that when he came downstairs?  
  
"Right. And what did you tell Derek? Was he awake?" He asks, guessing Isaac's bag was back at the loft.

"He woke up when I walked in. I told him I was going back to your house."

"And he was cool with it?" Stiles grabs the keys to his jeep and gestures for Isaac to follow him.

"Well, yeah." Isaac answers, walking beside him. "Did you expect him not to?"

"Not really," Stiles opens the front door, making Isaac walk out. Once they both were out of the house, Stiles locked the front door and unlocked his jeep, jumping inside the drivers seat. "Just wondering if that was all he said."

"Well, it wasn't _all_  he said."

"No? Then what did you two talk about?"

"You. Well, that's technically a Who, but you get it." Isaac nods and puts on his seatbelt.

"You talked about me?" Stiles is so surprised, he can't even get the jeep to start. (That usually happens, but shhh, he was being dramatic.)

Isaac nods in confirmation.

"What did you talk about that included me in the conversation?"

"Things."

"Such as,"

"Don't you think you're aiming too high if you want me to tell you that?"

"Maybe," Stiles confesses. "But it's worth a shot."

"Of course it is," Then, Isaac reaches is hand to put over Stiles' to help him turn on the ignition key. The jeep comes to life in an instant. And sure, Stiles and Isaac had slept in the same bed together a while ago, but his breath still caught in his throat when Isaac placed his hand over Stiles'.

"That's no fair. I did it like five times. I think my car likes you better than me." Stiles says, playing it cool.

"Nah. You raised the jeep. I'm sure it likes you better. And anyway, this happened that night, too. You were the one who had to help me turn the key." It's funny how Stiles knew exactly which night he was talking about. Were they going to be referring to night when Stiles was drunk as 'That night' from now on?

"Huh. Weird."

"Maybe it needs the both of us opening it when we're in the car together. Because you're partially positive and I'm partially negative, so we need to share the energy."

"Did you just _Chemistry Bonding_ me."

"Maybe," Isaac grins.

"So you're attracted to me, then, Lahey?"

"Maybe."

-

About five minutes later, Stiles brings his jeep to a halt at the parking lot. "Are you my boyfriend?"

"Am- am I your what?" Isaac looks at him, eyebrows drawn together at Stiles' sudden question.

"My boyfriend." Stiles repeats, his hands on the steering wheel, and his eyes on Isaac.

Isaac looks visibly relaxed at that, his fingers drumming at the dashboard. "I'd like to be your boyfriend."

"Then be my boyfriend." Stiles states.

Nodding, Isaac allows himself to smile. "Okay, I'll be your boyfriend."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So thank you so much for stcicking through the story for so long! Hope you guys aren't too disappointed by the ending?
> 
> But seriously, thank you to everyone who has ever liked or commented :)<3
> 
> ((Also, this is probably the longest chapter I've actually let myself write for this story? And I updated in one week while there are tests, SATs, and auditions coming up?? Whats wrong with me?? lmao))


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